February 14th
by violence4
Summary: It's Valentine's Day, but Howard and Vince have both been too scared to send the cards they bought each other. Can Naboo help them out? Fluffy oneshot.


**A little oneshot - which isn't actually so little, as my fingers always get carried away on the keyboard.**

**Not connected to my other fics. Just a bit of fluff (well, quite a lot of fluff) for Valentine's Day.**

**Disclaimer: the Boosh belongs to Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding, I am simply a loyal worshipper who intends to start a church for it one day (just kidding).**

* * *

**February 14th**

The sun was shining, in a wintery sort of way, the birds were singing – and the postman was thumping on the door of the small shop.

After a few moments, a small man with shoulder-length black hair, in what looked like a blue dress, appeared, groaning and muttering, "Yeah, yeah, comin', comin'…" He walked to the door with a long-suffering expression on his face, kicking a stack of envelopes out of the way, and opened up. "Can't you read the sign? We're not open yet."

"I know," said the postman, "But I can't get any more envelopes through your letter box."

"Why not?" asked the small man.

"All those other envelopes are blocking it!" cried the postman. "This is the third delivery I've had to make to your shop this morning and it's not even nine o'clock! More and more letters keep arriving at the post office and they're all addressed here, all addressed to… who are you, by the way?"

"I'm Naboo, that's who," replied the small man.

"What?" The postman looked at one of his envelopes. "You mean this is the wrong place? After I've made three trips? You're not Vince Noir?"

"No, he's upstairs; why?" Naboo suddenly looked suspicious. "What's he done?"

"He seems to have got the entire population of Dalston to send him letters!" the postman said. "Today of all days! As if I didn't have enough to do! It's Valentine's Day, when the whole world suddenly remembers the postal service exists and doesn't just use emails like it does the rest of the year – _today_, this – this _man_ – decides he needs everyone in London and beyond to send letters here!"

"I think you'll find the two are connected," said Naboo, smiling thinly. "I'll take those letters for him."

"Oh, thank you…" blustered the post man. He handed Naboo a stack of at least thirty envelopes, said, "I'll probably see you later, judging by how things have been", and wandered away distractedly, wondering whether he shouldn't just have been a female impersonator like his father.

Naboo sighed and sorted through the envelopes. Yes, he'd thought as much. But he was used to this. It happened every year. He removed one bill from the stack, which he put on the shop counter, and then scooped up all the other letters that had collected on the floor.

He carried them up the stairs, out of the shop and into the flat, where his flatmate and fellow salesman, Howard Moon, was sitting at the table, having breakfast with Naboo's familiar, Bollo.

"You see," Howard was saying to Bollo, "The thing about jazz is the lack of rules. Not just lack of rules. Jazz doesn't even recognise rules exist. Jazz runs rules over in the street and doesn't even notice it hit anything, cos for jazz there are no rules…"

"Bollo feel unwell," the gorilla muttered. "Think gonna be sick."

But he was spared, because at that moment, Howard noticed Naboo staggering up the stairs with the post.

"Morning, Naboo," said Howard. "That many bills?"

"No," said Naboo, depositing everything on the sofa and starting to sort through the envelopes. "It's Valentine's Day, isn't it?"

"I didn't know you had that many admirers, Naboo."

"Don't be daft. You know who these are for –" And at that moment, the person the cards were all for, Vince Noir, King of the Mods and Goth Fairy, came swooping out of his bedroom like a glittery electro eagle, and landed, perched on one of the kitchen chairs, surrounded by an aura of shimmering reflections from the tiny mirrors stuck up the sides of his trousers.

Howard groaned softly to himself. Oh yes. Of course.

"Morning, Vince," said Naboo.

"All right?" Vince said, grinning. "Did someone say Valentine's Day?"

Howard groaned again and held his forehead. He always hated Valentine's Day, especially with Vince around.

"There's some post for you," Naboo said, indicating the already large pile he had put all Vince's letters in.

"Ooh, for me?" said Vince giddily. He skipped across the room. "Ooh, check this out, eh?"

"Vince," said Howard.

"Morning, Howard." Vince smiled very prettily and then turned back to his post.

"What are you wearing?" Howard asked, when he'd recovered himself from that smile.

"It's my Valentine's Day look, innit?" Vince said. "It's all pink. And look, I got hearts on my shirt but, they're like, made out of sequins."

"Yes, I can see that, Vince," Howard sighed.

Vince giggled and opened the first of his cards. Naboo carried on sorting through the post. Most of it was for Vince. There were also a couple more bills. There were some Valentine cards for Bollo, mostly from people who'd seen him DJ.

"Anything for me?" Howard asked.

"No, why? Were you expecting something?" Naboo asked.

Howard didn't reply.

"Maybe that freaky merman will send you a card, Howard!" Vince giggled.

Howard shot him a very dark look.

Naboo flipped over a few more envelopes – and then stopped.

"What?" Howard asked.

"Oh God, maybe that one is for you!" Vince said, suddenly sounding quite alarmed about this prospect.

Bollo got up. "Naboo?" He went over and took the envelope out of Naboo's hand. "No, not for Howard," he said. "For Naboo."

There was a moment of silence.

"Right!" said Howard, leaping up suddenly. "I think it's time to open the shop!"

"I need to straighten my hair again; it feels awful!" said Vince, leaping up at almost the same time. And they both disappeared before Naboo or Bollo had time to think about what had just happened.

"Freaks," muttered Bollo.

Naboo shook his head. He turned over the next envelope.

That was one addressed to him as well.

The rest of the cards were all for Vince. Naboo left them in his pile of envelopes, called to Bollo to clear up breakfast, and then went to his room, staring at the two envelopes.

He sat down on his bed and selected one of the envelopes. It was small and brown.

The card that came out was small too, and very plain and very formal. It said "Happy Valentine's Day" on the front and nothing else.

Naboo opened it. There was nothing written inside. He flipped it over, just in case, but there was nothing on the back except a smug declaration that the card was made from recycled paper.

Naboo frowned and picked up the other envelope. This one was much large and a fluorescent pink colour. Naboo opened it.

A shower of glitter poured out and covered his lap.

"Oh, no!" Naboo jumped up and tried to shake the glitter off his robes – but, as always with glitter, it stuck. "Oh no, I just had this dry-cleaned!" Naboo groaned, going to look in the mirror. "I'm gonna look like Vince's Mini-Me or something!"

Then he had a sudden thought.

-----

Down in the shop, Howard Moon put up the shutters, turned the sign from "Closed" to "Open", and then took his place behind the counter: standing tall, welcoming smile on his face, to encourage people in.

Then he slumped and fell backwards into a chair, putting his head in his hands.

Valentine's Day. Possibly his least favourite day of the whole year.

Howard didn't even like to think of the number of years he'd gone without a card, without a present, without a date, without anyone to celebrate with. Every year the shops would be full of sparkle and pink and red hearts and huge signs telling everyone not to forget February 14th – and every year Howard wanted to crawl under a stone and hibernate there until at least April.

And what made it worse was that his best friend – or at least, the man who was _supposed_ to be his best friend – Vince Noir, always seemed to receive half of every Clinton Cards in the post.

Vince always teased Howard about this. Howard knew he meant well. Most of the time. He just didn't think about other people's feelings. He didn't think that Howard might be jealous.

Or, if he did, he would assume that Howard jealous of the attention Vince was getting.

But no. Howard was jealous, not because he wanted other people to send him cards, but because other people were sending Vince cards.

It was a ridiculous thing to feel. So ridiculous that Howard always pushed it down when it threatened to get out of control. But today was one of the few days it was hard to pretend. Today, when every stupid movie and irritating shop practically ordered you to proclaim your love. "Today's the day you can say it!" But it wasn't. No day was the day you could tell your stunningly gorgeous best friend that you had been in love with him for years – stunningly gorgeous _straight_ best friend – but stunningly gorgeous best friend who wouldn't have gone for you even if he was gay because he could have had his pick of any man in the world.

What did Howard have that would ever make Vince want him? Howard often didn't think Vince wanted him as a friend, let alone as a lover.

But he couldn't help it. He just loved Vince. When Vince smiled, the whole street seemed to light up. When he laughed it was the happiest sound in the world. When he grinned at Howard in his ditzy, happy, trusting way, life seemed complete.

Every year, Vince got hundreds of cards and every year, Howard cursed himself that he wasn't brave enough to send Vince one himself.

Every year he'd stand in shops, looking at cards, wondering whether he should just take the plunge. If he was stronger, or braver, he would have done. But he didn't think he could do it. He couldn't take the rejection. Vince would laugh. He'd laugh and Howard would never hear the end of it. "You're in love with me!" he'd crow.

And even if he didn't laugh – even if he had a rare, sensitive moment and realised that this wasn't something to laugh at – he wouldn't feel the same. How could he?

This year it had got further than usual. Howard had actually bought a card. He'd bought it after having a few beers with Lester, and as he was going home he'd noticed a shop open late, and he'd just dashed in and bought it.

But the next morning, the unwritten card was there, in his room, and Howard was terrified. He couldn't send that card. There was no way on Earth he could send it.

He could send it without signing it… but no. Vince got so many cards every year that he'd hardly even look at it. It was plain and boring, rather like the man who'd bought it, Howard thought sadly. It would be ridiculous. He might put it up in his room for a couple of days, but then it would get knocked over, or he'd stand another card in front of it, and that would be that. If there was nothing to say it came from Howard, Vince wouldn't even notice it.

And Howard certainly wasn't brave enough to sign it.

But he didn't want to keep it. Suppose someone found it? They'd want to know who he'd bought it for. That could cause endless problems. What should he do? He considered knotting it up in one of the bin bags next time he took the bags out to the designated refuse area, but he only did that once a week, when there was a collection – and the last collection had been yesterday. The card would have to sit in his room for about six days before he could do that. Plenty of time for someone to discover it.

So, in the end, he sent it to someone else. Someone who would never suspect that Howard might send them a card, so it was perfectly safe.

At that moment, there was a light footstep on the stairs, and Howard jumped up, wanting to look like he was doing something. Glancing at the stairs, he saw Vince floating down them, looking like he was descending from heaven, black hair bouncing lightly on his shoulders and a happy smile on his face.

Then his face changed to a look of confusion and slight alarm. "Why are you lookin' me like that?" he asked.

Howard realised his mouth was open and hastily closed it. "I'm not. I'm not looking at you any special way."

"Oh. Okay." Vince turned away – meaning that Howard didn't see the slight look of disappointment on his face.

There was silence for a few moments.

"Hey, Howard?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't mean it, about that merman, you know? I was just mucking around."

"I know you were," said Howard, slightly surprised, because Vince never cared about things like this.

"You okay?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine, Vince."

Vince nodded. He came and stood behind the counter with Howard. "I wonder who sent Naboo that card," he said.

"Dunno," Howard muttered, trying not to get distracted by having Vince stand close to him. He could smell Vince's hair spray, strong and enticing…

"Howard?"

Howard turned to see Vince looking up at him, big blue eyes wide.

"Yes, Vince?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, little man. I'm fine."

"You seem a bit…"

"I'm fine."

"Good," Vince said softly. He leaned his hand on the counter – and without meaning to, put his hand down over Howard's.

For a few seconds neither of them moved. There was total silence as the two men stared at each other.

Then they both jumped away, mumbling, "Sorry… sorry…" Howard hurried out from behind the counter, while Vince leant forward against it and blew upwards, ruffling his fringe.

This happened sometimes. Not very often. Just enough. A moment when they'd catch each other's eye, or be a little too close together…

"Howard…?" Vince started.

But Howard was already by the door. "Look, Vince, um, I've just remembered – I've got to pick up a record from Lester. Watch the shop; I'll be back soon –"

And he was gone.

Vince sighed and ran his hands backwards through his hair – and then hastily ran his hands through it a few more times to make sure he hadn't ruffled it up. He didn't need a mirror. He could feel if his hair was perfect.

But he was slightly distracted. It had happened again.

Every time he thought it was all done, every time he'd convinced himself he'd imagined it all, it would happen again.

And the reason it hurt was because he knew it didn't mean anything to Howard at all.

He and Howard were friends. Best friends. They had been for years. Of course, all friends are attracted to each other on some level. So it was hardly surprising, over the times they'd been friends, that there had been a couple of moments when there seemed to be a bit of sexual tension.

Vince might have allowed himself to believe it was more than just a second about once a year, maybe even less than that, when things got out of hand, if he hadn't known Howard so well. Howard wasn't gay. He was straight. As straight as Vince's hair after he'd been at it with his straightners for two hours. There was absolutely no way Howard would ever consider being with another man.

And Vince – well, he'd been known to experiment. But to be honest, the idea of actually going out with another man, as opposed to just blindly kissing a guy in a club and then forgetting about it, scared him a bit. And it scared him more because it was Howard. If it had been someone like him – someone who liked electro music and bright colours and shiny things – there might have been less of a problem. But going out with Howard? His best friend? The idea frightened him.

So why, he asked himself, do you keep thinking about him like this?

The truth was Vince didn't know. He really didn't know why he found Howard so appealing – because by all accounts, he wasn't. Although secretly Vince didn't actually think Howard anywhere as bad looking as he told Howard he did – he had a certain mature charm about him – it was true that Howard wasn't anything special. Not like – well, not like himself, for instance. But Howard was… well. He was protective. He was sweet. He had all those adorable, funny habits like arranging his stationary. And he knew Vince was so well. He didn't just think of him as a piece of flesh to ogle. He cared about Vince as a person, nothing something Vince really liked to admit he wanted – but he did want it. He wanted it from Howard.

He thought about all those cards upstairs. Possibly hundreds of cards. But not a card from the one person he would have liked to get a card from. A card from the one person it would really have meant something from.

Perhaps I should have sent that card to Howard after all, he thought.

Because Vince had bought Howard a card. This year. It wasn't something he'd ever done before. But this year… well, he wasn't really sure why this year. But he'd found himself buying a card.

But then he freaked out. Howard would think it was a joke and he'd be really hurt. And even if he didn't think it was a joke – even if he did realise it was serious – he'd be terrified and he'd probably run straight out the door and never come back.

So Vince had sent the card to someone else. That way, he thought, he might be helping at least one person have a good Valentine's Day. And there was no danger of anyone finding the card in his bedroom. Bollo had a habit of picking things up in people's bedrooms when he did the hovering and then showing them to everybody. Because, as Vince himself always said, "I don't send cards, I just get 'em!" If it looked like he'd been going to _send_ a card, it would have cause endless questions. So the card had gone to…

There was a soft thumping of someone coming down into the shop, and Naboo appeared. "Hey, Vince," he said.

"All right, Naboo?" Vince said, snapping back into his usual cheery persona. Then he took a proper look at the shaman. "Why have you got glitter all over your robes?"

"Fell out one of those Valentine cards," said Naboo. He gave Vince a look that Vince didn't understand. An almost knowing look.

But before they could say anything, there was a thumping noise of someone falling against the door of the shop. They both looked up and saw the postman, clutching an armful of boxes, with flowers visible on the top.

Naboo hurried to the door and let the postman in.

"What's this?" Vince asked, as the postman came staggering inside.

"Mind yourself, miss… I'm gonna drop…" The postman just managed to reach the counter, and dumped several huge parcels and an enormous bouquet of roses there. Then he mopped his forehead. "Where's your Vince Noir? Cos I think I might kill him! I've been delivering post all over England for twenty years and I've never seen anything like this! The post service needs to be protected from any further…"

"I'm right here!" Vince said.

The postman blinked.

"Oh," he said, looking at Vince. "Well, this changes matters."

"Is all this stuff for me?" Vince asked, eager in spite of the knowledge that none of it was from the person he wanted it to be from.

"Yes. The roses are mine, actually," said the postman, who was straightening his uniform.

"The tag says they're from someone called Clara Brightwood."

"Oh," said the postman. "Well, maybe I'll see you tonight…" And he hurried out.

"Why was he called Clara Brightwood?" Vince asked.

"I don't think he was," said Naboo, shaking his head.

"Oh." Vince looked at the tag again. "I don't think I know anyone called Clara Brightwood."

"You don't know half the people who send you Valentine cards, Vince. You never do."

"True." Vince started opening one of the packages.

"By the way," said Naboo, starting to straighten merchandise in the window, "Good joke with you and Howard."

"What joke?" Vince asked.

"With those cards."

"What cards?"

"Don't play dumb, Vince," said Naboo, shaking his head and smiling, "You know I know you two too well. You didn't really think I'd think I had some secret admirers, did you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

There was a sudden thundering sound from upstairs.

"Bollo!" Naboo yelled.

Bollo appeared in a flowery apron. "Sorry," he said. "Omelettes exploded."

"Well, clean it up, yeah?"

"Okay." Bollo disappeared again, and Naboo turned back to Vince, who was frowning at him. "I know you and Howard sent those cards to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Vince, I know; you don't have to think I'll be upset or anyfing."

Vince sighed. "Okay," he said, "I did send one of 'em cards – it weren't a joke or anything, I just thought maybe you'd like to get a card for once cos you never seem to – but I dunno about Howard. I didn't know he was sendin' one."

Naboo frowned. He could nearly always tell when people were lying, and Vince didn't seem to be. But it seemed highly unbelievable that both Vince and Howard would have both suddenly thought, the same year, completely independently of each other, that Naboo might want a Valentine's card, when neither of them had ever seemed remotely concerned about things like that before.

"Vince," he said, "I've never had cards or presents or anything on Valentine's Day, but it doesn't bother me. But if you were so worried about people gettin' cards on Valentine's Day, why didn't you get one for Howard as well? You know he never gets anything and you know he cares far more than…"

Vince suddenly knocked his parcel off the counter.

"Oh!" he said. "Oops! I'm gonna get a broom, clear that up…" And he hurried off.

Naboo frowned again, more deeply than before. Vince never cleared up after himself. He seemed to see it as his duty to make messes and other people's duty to tidy them away. And anyway, all he'd done was knock a parcel off the counter. He didn't need a broom. And was it just the light, or had he been blushing?

"Bollo," called Naboo slowly, thinking.

Bollo bustled down the stairs. "Omelettes all sorted now. Should be 'bout half an hour."

"Yeah… Bollo, d'you think you could get me those cards I got this morning?"

"Oh, sure," mumbled the gorilla, and went off.

Naboo sat down behind the counter, his feet hanging above the floor in their pointed shoes, and rested his chin on his hands. There was something going on here and he wasn't quite sure what yet, but he was starting to have an idea.

-----

In the storeroom at the back of the shop, Vince sighed, and sat down heavily on a box. Valentine's Day and he, Vince Noir, who got so many cards the postman wanted to kill him, didn't have a Valentine.

Not a proper Valentine. Not someone he really cared about and loved. Vince hadn't had that since – well, he didn't actually remember the last time he'd had that.

True, he got plenty of girls. He got plenty of boys, too. But he didn't have anyone he just wanted to sit on the sofa with for hours. He didn't have anyone he wanted to do things for just because he cared about them. He didn't have anyone he wouldn't mind seeing him without his make-up.

Except he did. But he couldn't ever tell that person that they were the person he wanted to do all those things with.

He'd never thought he'd be in this situation. But maybe it was his cold, shallow exterior that had got him into it. Maybe that was why he couldn't just open up now and say how he felt. Because more than likely he'd get turned down, and Vince Noir didn't get turned down. He didn't know how. He didn't know how to make himself vulnerable. He was too scared. Too much in love.

-----

Howard Moon returned to the shop about an hour after he'd left. He took a quick look through the windows. No-one in there. The sign now said "Closed". Vince, Naboo and Bollo must be having lunch. He could slip in without them noticing, then.

But as soon as he opened the door, Naboo's feet appeared at the top of the stairs – and a moment later, the shaman was down in the shop. It was almost as though he'd been waiting for Howard. And when Howard looked at him, he realised that Naboo had been waiting for him. "What?" he asked nervously.

"I think we need to have a talk, Howard," Naboo said.

"Why? What's Vince done?" Howard asked.

"It's not just Vince," Naboo said.

Nervous now, Howard followed Naboo upstairs. Bollo was washing up. Vince wasn't there.

"Where is he?" he asked.

Naboo pointed to the sofa, and Howard sat.

"He should be coming soon," Naboo said, sitting down opposite and making an arch with his fingers in a deeply mystic way.

And, sure enough, about five minutes later, Vince appeared up the stairs. He'd gone out to buy some candyfloss and eating it had made him feel better. "Hey!" he said, before Naboo could even open his mouth. "Y'know what I was just thinkin'?"

No-one asked what he'd been thinking, so Vince just continued anyway: "I was thinkin', right, maybe we should shut up the shop –"

"Shut up shop?" Bollo called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, and we could do, like, shows! Me and you, Bollo, and Howard and Naboo! We could tell jokes and sing and dance and stuff!"

"Vince," said Howard, irritated because he was worried about what Naboo had to say and he wanted him to get on with it, "I really don't think anyone would want to watch me, you, Bollo and Naboo telling jokes, singing and dancing."

"I reckon they would!" Vince said. "I reckon we'd be good! We could start out just doing local shows, maybe get on the radio – we could even be on TV in a couple of years! We've got you, Howard, you're like the lovable idiot, and me, I'm the cute one everyone fancies, and then…"

"I think this is all very unlikely," Howard said.

"But I –"

"Vince," said Naboo, interrupting before this could go any further, "I need to talk to you and Howard."

"What about?"

"Sit down," said Naboo.

Vince sat on the sofa next to Howard. They looked expectantly at the shaman.

"I got two Valentines today," Naboo said.

Howard and Vince exchanged a look.

"Yeah, we know…" Howard said hesitantly.

"They were from you two," Naboo said.

"No!"

"I –"

"Vince, you already admitted it," Naboo said. "But don't worry. I know you don't really want to send me cards. I know who you both really wanted to send those cards to."

Now Howard and Vince were both silent. Naboo looked from one to the other. Vince had his mouth slightly open and blood gathering at his cheeks. Howard was just wide-eyed (or as wide-eyed as a man with such small eyes could be). They weren't looking at each other, though, so neither of them seemed to have noticed the other's reaction.

"Now, look," said Naboo gently. "I want you both to tell each other who you wanted to send those cards to really."

Total silence. Howard and Vince's expressions didn't change.

"Howard? Vince?"

Still nothing.

"Oh God," grunted Bollo, sticking his head out of the kitchen, "Howard try to send card to Vince, Vince try to send card to Howard. Bollo understand why Howard like Vince but Bollo not understand why –"

"Bollo!" said Naboo.

"Sorry." Bollo disappeared.

There was a short silence.

"Look, you two," said Naboo, "You need to both –"

"No," said Vince. "No, you got it wrong."

"What?" said Naboo.

"No, this – this can't be right."

"Vince, I'm very sure –"

"I don't see how you can be sure!" Vince snapped. Naboo was surprised to see how upset he looked. Were those tears in his eyes? "You've never even had a Valentine before! You said so! Don't mock us like this!"

"Don't mock?" Howard said suddenly. "_Don't mock? _Oh, you can talk, Vince!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Vince asked.

"Guys," said Naboo, but both men had leapt up now.

"What's that supposed to mean? I suppose you thought it would be really funny to send me a card when you know I never get any!"

"Howard, I –"

"I don't know why I'm surprised! You making me a laughing stock, just like you always do! All the time, encouraging everyone to laugh at me! You advertised me as a male prostitute on our shop shutters, for God's sake…!"

"It's the only way to get you to notice me!" Vince shrieked.

There was silence.

"What?" Howard croaked.

"Oh, never mind." Vince turned away, eyes now bright red and overflowing. He ran out of the living room and disappeared down the stairs. After a few minutes they heard the shop door slam.

Another silence.

"Howard," Naboo started.

But Howard shook his head. He walked out, down the stairs, and again, a few moments later, the shop door banged shut.

Naboo groaned and rubbed his forehead.

Bollo appeared with two cups of coffee and two joints. He handed one of the mugs and one of the joints to Naboo. "That went well," he said, sitting down heavily.

"I was just trying to help 'em, Bollo. You know as well as I do they just can't get on with things."

"Howard and Vince hot-blooded men. They come round," Bollo said wisely.

"Well, I hope so, cos I've got some shaman love candles in my cupboard and someone ought to use 'em." Naboo took a sip of coffee and stuck his joint in his mouth.

----

It was dark and cold. Howard Moon had been wandering the streets for hours.

He'd thought Vince was just laughing at him. Vince was always laughing at him.

But then what had Vince said?

"It's the only way to get you to notice me!"

But how could Vince think Howard wouldn't notice him without all of that? How could Vince think anyone wouldn't notice him? But especially Howard. Didn't he know that, for Howard, Vince coming into the room was like the entire place suddenly being bathed in heavenly light? How could he not know that?

But maybe… just maybe…

Maybe he genuinely didn't know. Maybe he was so used to being a sex object that he didn't really think he could be anything else.

Howard didn't know. But whatever it was, Vince knew now what Howard felt about him. And that in itself was a reason not to go home.

He wandered miserably down the street, looking at all the closed shops with their Valentine's Day posters just visible in the dark – and the restaurants filled with couples.

He spotted, to his surprise, the Head Shaman, Dennis, and his wife, in one of the restaurants, sitting by the window.

Howard remembered them only too well. It had been because of them that – that –

They didn't look like they were having a Happy Valentine's Day either. Howard could hear them, faintly, when he went near the glass. "How much did you pay to take your whore out last night, then?" Dennis's wife was shouting, attracting some uncomfortable looks from other diners.

"You can talk!" thundered Dennis. "Going into cupboards with handsome young men!"

"What goes around comes around," his wife shot back. "I do you like you do me, Dennis."

Howard left before they could notice him. Besides, he had a lot on his mind.

He thought about what Dennis and his wife reminded him of. Him and Vince, with the air cool on their cheeks, and Vince's mouth on his…

And he'd almost been brave enough to tell Vince how he felt. But then Vince had made it so clear he wasn't interested, Howard just had to pretend it had all been a joke, or a momentary lapse, or whatever – he couldn't even remember properly.

He wandered on, past more restaurants, so distracted he wasn't looking where he was going – and he crashed straight into someone coming the other way.

"Sorry, sorry," Howard muttered.

"Don't I know you?" said a voice – and Howard looked up to see Saboo, one of the other shaman.

"Saboo! Howard Moon."

"Ah… ah, yes," said Saboo, pretending he knew who Howard was. "How are you?"

"All right," said Howard.

"Doing anything for Valentine's Day?" Saboo asked, still trying to remember how he knew this man, or even if he did.

"Oh, no. You?"

"Yes. Out for a date, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Here." Saboo nodded to the restaurant they were standing outside.

"What's her name?"

"Oh, um… Antonia…" But at that moment, a taxi drew up outside the restaurant, the door opened – and a small shape got out.

"Sorry I'm late!" rasped a voice. Howard and Saboo looked down at the round object on the pavement.

"Howard Moon! Tony Harrison, remember me? Saboo, there you are. Sorry I'm late, I –"

"Shut up, Tony," said Saboo angrily. He turned to Howard and gave a very forced laugh.

"Out for Valentine's Day?" Tony Harrison called up to Howard.

"Oh. No," said Howard. And then, before he could stop himself: "Chance would be a fine thing."

"Ah!" said Tony Harrison. "I knew it! I could tell, there's someone you love and you can't bring yourself to tell her!"

"Well…" Howard started.

"It's all about honesty!" said Tony Harrison. "The young lady… what's her name?"

"Vince," Howard said.

Saboo stared. But Tony Harrison didn't seem at all phased. "It's all about unconventional love!" he said. "Look at us, I mean! Who would have thought? But –"

"Be quiet, now, Tony," said Saboo. And he picked up Tony Harrison and carried him into the restaurant.

"What? No! This is an outrage!" Tony Harrison cried, as he was lifted away. "Unconventional love! Don't be afraid!" And with that, they were gone.

----

"When you are the Moon, uh, you often don't get Valentine's cards. I sent Venus a Valentine's card but, uh, I think she more interested in Jupiter… just cos he big. Big and made of gas. I'm the moon, I'm made of rocks. I got substance. Full of substance. Substance that is, uh, like, uh, a cheese."

----

Vince rushed round down the street, eyes so full of tears he could hardly see. He charged blindly round one corner, then another – but he only made it a few blocks before he had to stop, because he was breathing so hard and choking on sobs, and he couldn't see a thing any more… and as soon as he did, his knees collapsed and he fell down onto the pavement.

He didn't care any more. He didn't even care when a group of Camden people, people he saw in bars sometimes, all walked past and gaped at the sigh of Vince Noir kneeling in the road in floods of tears.

It was all spoilt. Howard knew. He knew and they'd never get over this, because Howard didn't feel the same. Vince knew he didn't.

He wrapped his arms round himself, feeling his own fingers against his back, trembling a bit. He felt his hair sticking to his wet face but he didn't care that it might be getting messed up.

About two hours later, Naboo and Bollo found Vince sitting on the edge of the pavement, rocking backwards and forwards slightly and holding his own knees.

Naboo motioned for Bollo to stay back, and came slowly towards Vince. "Vince?"

Vince looked up, and Naboo was quite shocked at how he looked. In the dusk, his blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes were still obvious. "All right, Naboo?" he started to say – but his voice caught in his throat.

"C'mon," said Naboo, holding out his hand to Vince. "Let's get you home."

For a few moments it seemed like Vince would refuse. He looked away down the road. But then he nodded. "'Kay."

Naboo helped Vince to his feet. "C'mon. Let's get home. I'll make you a cuppa tea."

"Cheers, Naboo," Vince mumbled. "You're a diamond."

Naboo patted Vince's back gently.

But back at the flat, Vince seemed to clam up again. Naboo made the tea. Vince curled himself up on the sofa. Naboo put the tea in front of him and he nodded, but didn't drink it.

Naboo and Bollo had a whispered conference in the kitchen. "D'you think he's okay?" Naboo asked.

"Bollo think Vince miss Howard," said the gorilla, clearly thinking this was a deeply insightful observation.

"D'you think we should go find Howard?"

"Huh! Howard idiot. Vince can do better."

"What if he doesn't want to do better?" Naboo worried. "I think maybe we should go find Howard."

So Naboo went off on his magic carpet, while Bollo stayed to look after Vince.

Naboo returned about an hour later. By this time it was dark outside. Vince and Bollo were sitting on the sofa, Vince leaning his head against Bollo's furry shoulder. He was holding his mug in one hand, dipping his finger and licking the tea off it. Dip, lick. Dip, lick.

Bollo looked up as Naboo came in. The shaman was shaking his head. "I can't find him," he muttered.

They hung around the flat. No-one knew what to do. They didn't think about getting anything to eat. Vince kept looking at the clock.

"Can I see that card he sent?" he asked Naboo.

"Vince…" said Naboo worriedly.

"Please."

Naboo sighed. "Okay." He went off to his room and returned with it. "There you go."

Vince took the card and looked at it. Then, he suddenly held the card to his chest and screwed up his eyes.

"Vince." Naboo reached out and patted the mod's shoulder.

"I wasn't ever tryin' to hurt him or nothing!" Vince said, his voice wavering, and tears leaking out between his eyelashes. "I just didn't know what else to do! I don't do love, Naboo! I do lookin' hot at the back of the club, that's what I do! I don't know how to deal with this kind of thing!"

"Vince, it'll be okay," Naboo said, wishing he felt more certain.

"How can you say that? I bet he never comes back; I bet he –"

But at that very moment, the door banged.

Everyone jumped.

"Oh," groaned Bollo from the kitchen. "Made me drop the tea!"

The next moment, Howard came rushing up the stairs, hair windswept, clutching his jacket round himself, eyes quite wild. "Vince!" he shouted.

"Darling!" Vince cried, leaping up – and then he quickly checked himself and sat straight back down again, trying to hide behind Naboo.

"Unconventional love! Don't be afraid!" Howard said. Some of his hair was standing on end.

"What the hell's going on?" Naboo asked. "Has someone given up drugs, Howard? Who have you met? Did they offer you anything?"

"No! I was out! And I had an epiphany! Or rather, Tony Harrison had it for me! Unconventional love is nothing to be afraid of!"

"Howard gone mad!" Bollo grunted from the kitchen.

"Shh, Bollo!" Naboo called. He turned back to Howard – but Howard was already looking at Vince, who was still trying to hide behind the shaman.

"Vince," Howard said, and he walked round Naboo so he was standing in front of the mod.

Vince kept his head bowed. Naboo could see he was shaking a bit. "Howard, I –"

"I know." Howard knelt down in front of Vince and took both his hands.

"I never meant –" Vince said, looking up at Howard.

"I know, little man."

Naboo stepped backwards, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

"I just –"

"Shh." Howard put a finger over Vince's mouth.

Vince looked up at Howard rather shyly, eyes still a bit damp.

"Vince," Howard said, "Naboo was right. That card was meant to be for you. And I've wanted to send you a card every Valentine's Day for – well, for years. And then I just bought that one, but I knew it was stupid to send it because you'd never even have looked at it; you never do look at your cards…"

"That's cos the people who send 'em, I don't know most of 'em," Vince said. "And Naboo was right about me, too. And Howard, it weren't a joke – I would never do that; I couldn't. I was just too scared to send it cos I thought you'd think I was laughing at you, but I wasn't. I just wanted you to know how I felt…" Vince bowed his head. Howard put his hand on Vince's face and raised him back up, so they were looking at each other.

Naboo, grinning now, motioned to Bollo. "Get those shaman love candles I told you about, Bollo…" he muttered.

"And how do you feel, Vince?" Howard asked.

"Howard, you know I'm not very good with feelings…"

"Just try, little man," Howard said, brushing Vince's hair back off his face.

Vince closed his eyes. Then he opened them, and looked up at Howard, his eyes the bluest and brightest Howard had ever seen them, even though they were still watery. "I love you," he whispered.

Howard kissed him as soon as he said it.

When Howard finally drew away, Vince was shaking. Howard stroked Vince's hair again. "I love you too," he said.

And Vince threw his arms round Howard's neck and kissed him again. "Howard, I –"

"I love you, Vince."

"I love you too, Howard… I always have, and…"

"Me too, Vince… and I've wanted to tell you for so long…"

They were suddenly distracted by a flickering light. They both looked up, Vince still in Howard's arms, to see Naboo and Bollo lighting some long, purple, shiny candles.

Vince started giggling.

"Romantic," said Howard, his voice a bit shaky from the emotion.

"These are shaman love candles," said Naboo. "I've had them for years. Was always hopin' I might light 'em for you two."

"How long have you known?" Howard asked.

"It obvious," grunted Bollo, putting the matches in the bin.

Vince and Howard grinned at each other, rather embarrassed – and then shook their heads, not caring, and kissed again.

"Naboo," Bollo asked, "What do these candles do?"

"They guarantee love," Naboo said, smiling as he watched Howard and Vince holding each other, kissing and stroking each other's faces.

But they were all distracted when the doorbell rang.

"Who's that?" Naboo asked.

"Maybe it postman," Bollo said, going to the window to look out. "More cards for precious Vince."

"Tell him to sod off and keep 'em al," Vince said, snuggling up to Howard.

Bollo looked out of the window. "Not postman. It's a girl."

"Oh!" Vince cried, leaping up.

"What?" Howard asked, sounding confused, and rather worried.

"Oh no, she's not here for me. She's here for, well…" Vince was looking at Naboo.

"What?" Naboo asked.

"Well, earlier you said you'd never had a Valentine or anything, so I thought, maybe set you up on a blind date…"

"Vince!" Naboo cried, horrified. "I don't do dating!"

"Oh, go on, Naboo! Just meet her!"

"Yeah, go on, Naboo! Don't be afraid of love, remember!"

"Go on, Naboo, or Bollo carry you downstairs."

"Fine!" said Naboo dramatically. "I'll look at her." He went to the window, pushed it open and looked out.

A very short woman was standing in the street outside. She was wearing a red cloak, and she had red streaks in her long dark hair. She looked up as Naboo opened the window, and her eyes widened. "You're a shaman!" she said.

"Yeah…" Naboo stammered.

"I could feel it!" said the woman. "I'm a shaman too."

For a few moments they stared at each other.

Then the woman said, "Look, um, I'm sorry, but does Vince live here? He told me to…"

"Right, I'll see you guys later," said Naboo, pulling his head out of the window. They heard him running down the stairs. Howard, Vince and Bollo all hurried to the window, in time to see Naboo coming out into the street. He and the woman smiled at each other. They watched as Naboo unrolled his magic carpet and the two got onto it and swooped away.

Howard and Vince smiled at each other.

"Howard?" Vince said, playing with the other man's collar.

"Mm…?"

"Love you."

"Love you too, little man." And Howard bent his head so they could share a sweet, gentle kiss.

Bollo nodded, and slipped out of the living room as the lovers slumped down onto the sofa together. "I got a good feeling about this," he muttered to himself.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. My two long fics will both be back with updates tomorrow!**

**Happy Valentine's Day :)**

**violence x**


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